Three Poems by Shouvik Narayan Hore

On a hushed moonlit SeptemberLyre in hand arose one memberBeneath the silence of the stars,Beyond the boundary of plush cars,And tranquil still the Summer sky,Only pure Autumn’s petals fly,Half ambushed standing one eve’s hill,Whose valleys gurgling waters fill,A fondling music whispered near,Too far to feel, too fine to hear.

Arose he under sacred skies,

Where shyness extreme slow death dies,Lyre in hand his voice poised, slow,Blossoming in firefly’s glow,More slowly did his face reveal,Those truths his heart had long conceal,What greater solace calmness bring,How Heavenly could nature sing!He began- and was witnessed by,Merging in Nature’s melodie.

Escaped her eye- I further gleanShe wrapped her arms around my hand,We two in God’s unity stand.The lyre fell off faster! PromptI descended; No sooner rompedI lonely stood- what fate, Alas!While winds soften the moonlit grassI dream of Wonderland- A Dream,The woodland thrush, the silvery stream.

To
S.S.

Full in a Crimson red dazzlement shone,The airs with a drift of floral flairs
laidUpon whose nectar the honey bees moan,Upon whose casements pearl cymbals
displayed,Her mouth bore the source of cavernous
gold,Her hairs could make well Rapunzel a
maid,Her eyes His masterly momentous mouldThat drowsed the undrunk in beauty’s
soft braid.

She was a Goddess or woman of earth,

A purple nymph dressed in a backless
gown,One twitch chastised- the other washed
with mirth,Like Sun shimmered sand when stooping
close down,The poet in his garret though sang these
once,He owned them All- just not the happy
One.